domenica 9 settembre 2007

Lost my luggage, lost my mind....

I guess it had to happen sooner or later. After many years of dragging myself and my suitcase(s) from A to B, via C, D and E, and back again, mostly without any major problems, I now find myself sans suitcase. Annoyingly it happened on the way to our destination, where we had just 7 days to 'relax', 'unwind', and think about all of the clothes we could be wearing had the suitcase managed to make the trip with us. Malpensa airport is well known for bags that miraculously jump from the luggage trucks and make a bid for freedom, although it's little consolation for the fact that - in my opinion - somewhere there is a baggage handler's wife / girlfriend who is very pleased with her new handbag and matching shoes....Anyway in a final attempt to shed some light on the mystery, I made the 50km trip to the airport in Luca's dad's car (desperately trying not to scratch / scrape / break it in some way), arriving at Terminal 2, where I parked in the '15 minutes for free, over 15 minutes for about 200 million euros' carpark. In the terminal I met a nice, helpful (excuse me while I pass out from shock) security lady, who escorted me to the deposito and let me search through the mountainous pile of unidentified bags. Needless to say, mine wasn't amongst them. The kind security lady suggested that I have a look over at Terminal 1, as you never know, può darsi blah blah... So I head back to the carpark, insert my ticket in the cassa, and what does it tell me? SIXTEEN MINUTES. Cazzo!! Oh well, call it bad luck, pay the hundred million euros and head off. Fine.Terminal 1. I park in the '15 minutes for free etc. etc.' carpark and head to the lost luggage office. Only this time the security guard doesn't look too friendly. He asks me for the paperwork, which I have. Good. He asks to see some ID, which I have. Great. "Er, Signora, I'm afraid I can't let you pass." "Why not?" I ask. "Because the name on the paperwork doesn't correspond with the name on your ID" "MA DAI??!" It turns out that at check-in they put Luca's name on both bags, and so his is the name on the paperwork. Dammit. I protest to the security man that I have all of the paperwork in my hand - the original airline ticket, the luggage receipt, the PIR form etc. and that surely if I was looking to locate and ultimately steal a suitcase not belonging to myself, its true owner would be pretty stupid to provide me with all of this documentation. O no?? So the security guard caves a bit and tells me to wait while he consults his female colleague. At this point I know I've lost the battle, and infact she totters over, wiggling her ass in the security guard's direction (just to make sure he knows who's boss, i.e. the ass is boss...) and promptly tells me to send the person named on the ticket, or return with a 'delega' - an official letter from the named person, authorising me to collect the bag in his place. My damn bag!! I argue a bit, before I start to worry they're going to do something awful like use their 'powers' - ha - to have me escorted from the building, so I retreat of my own accord. I get back to the carpark, and guess what.... SIXTEEN MINUTES!!! Cazzo.